Chained
by worldssockrocker
Summary: It's only after Harry's freedom that he becomes chained.


"Go, you're free now." Quiet words fell from trembling lips.

"Free? Free! Free from what?' his voice was loud and echoing; cannon fire in the mountains, fire that would start an avalanche.

"Free from me." The words were short and deliberate, spaced far enough apart that the illusion of a mind change was possible, but not far enough to think that words were forgotten and the sentence was never to be finished. "Free from me and my name, and everything it stands for. Free to live the life that has been expected of you since before you were even born. Free to not have your every move suspected; your every thought read and analysed in an attempt to charge you with treason."

"But…" The others arguments were burying him.

"I'll tell anyone who'll listen what happened; you were only in it for the sex; when it got old you shed me like an old skin. You're through with me."

"But I'm not through with you!" The cry fell on deaf ears.

"Go. Go back to being their hero. It is, after all what you do best." And with that Draco Malfoy swept from the room, cold and remorseless, making sure the door slammed shut right in Harry Potter's face and that the lock clicked in place no more than a moment after.

"So this is freedom," Harry said glumly two weeks later. Ron grunted from the davenport across from him. "It's not even like I was chained before. I was free. He didn't own me before, I made my own choices. I chose to stay with him."

"I know mate, but…" Ron shrugged and trailed off. Harry had been impossible to deal with for the past fortnight. It was a sign of Ron's dedication that he was even still there; although that dedication was more to his sex life than to his best friends. Hermione's threats of 'no sex for two months' began to sound every time Ron thought about getting up and leaving; or better yet throwing Harry head first into the bath.

For his part Harry probably wouldn't have noticed if Ron got up and left and in the off chance that he did, he wouldn't have minded too much. He was quite content to sit in the same clothes he'd been wearing for the past 15 days, guzzling down whatever alcohol was available to him, and mourning his state to whatever object, animate or not, would be willing to stay still. Had Ron not found him he would still probably be crying his heart out to the lamppost in the nearby park.

"Maybe he's taking the bird approach," Ron suggested tentatively. At this point Ron was game to suggest that it hadn't actually been Draco who was talking to Harry; that he had either been under the imperious curse or had been impersonated by means of a polyjuice potion. Anything that would get Harry to wash away the stench that comes from not showering for a week. (Technically it had been longer, but the horrible stink was easier to deal with if he pretended that the downpour Harry had been standing in when he and Hermione had found their best friend was a shower.)

"The what?" Harry was equally ready to accept any excuse that could be made for his former lover.

"The bird approach. It's not used too much anymore 'cause owls are more likely to be loyal to their owners than pigeon; owls won't let you take 'em home unless they like you. Pigeons are easy enough to catch."

"I don't care about owls and pigeons; all I care about is getting Draco back!" Harry yelled. That seemed to be about all he did nowadays; that, cry, and mope.

"The theory was," Ron continued, ignoring his friend's outburst like he had taken to doing. After all 'you probably wouldn't be in the best of moods if you had just had your heart broken, Ronald Weasley.' "That you would have the pigeon for a certain amount of time, give yourself time to love it and it you, then you'd send it out; either on a delivery or to hunt or something. Sometimes it would return and sometimes it wouldn't, depended on how nice you treated it before and how much it loved you."

"That must be it," Harry cried, jumping up in triumph. "It's not that he doesn't love me anymore, he just wants to see whether or not I actually love him. Ron, you're brilliant." He swooped down on the red-head and gave him a lung crushing hug.

"Course I am," was the breathy reply. "How about you go shower and come up with an equally brilliant plan to prove your undying love. I'll floo back to my apartment and tell Hermione."

"Yeah. Yeah! I'm gonna go take a shower."

"I'll bring over a sobriety potion," Ron called after Harry's retreating back.

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione's voice was cautious, trying to not out rightly call Harry's idea insane. "We don't even know if that's the real reason Draco left you he doesn't seem the type to give into something as stupid as a muggle cliché."

"Muggle cliché?" Ron howled. "How is the bird approach a muggle cliché? They don't even use birds!" He was very sensitive about giving up his newly acclaimed 'brilliant'-ness.

"If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's yours, if not it was never meant to be," Hermione recited.

"It's not like that Hermione. He's testing me, that's all," Harry protested. Hermione checked the urge to roll her eyes and point out that was exactly what she said. Clearly Harry was not up to seeing reason, despite her mixing in a clarity potion with her strongest sobriety one.

"Are you saying that he actually left me?" Harry asked, rounding on Hermione, finally catching the full implications of her previous statement. "Are you trying to suggest that Draco no longer loves me?" He towered well over half a head above her, his emerald eyes flashing in anger.

"N-not at all," she denied. Gathering her courage she continued, "I'm simply saying that maybe he had another reason. One that was equally logical, less cliché, and still meant that he had feelings for you?" She suggested timidly.

"Such as…" Harry pressed. Hermione looked down at her feet and shrugged. "That's what I thought. So here's the plan…"

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, in the same position he had been in for nearly two weeks. "Damn," he whispered, as realisation struck home.

"That's—"

"Bloody brilliant," Ron trilled, interrupting his fiancée.

"—Maybe not such a good idea," Hermione finished. "It's just too… complicated," she finished quickly noting Harry's warning glance. "We should try something simpler first."

"I like it. I'm sticking to it. Now we need to get working, we only have six days. Ron get writing, Hermione you'll help me. Any questions?"

"What colour ink should I use?"

"Green, Ron. Honestly! I can't believe I agreed to marry you."

Three weeks after the break-up found Draco Malfoy strutting around as was expected of his arrogant self. He had returned from getting his desperately needed manicure and hair cut. He once again looked absolutely drop dead gorgeous. His senses were back to their normal super sonic level, which is what lead him to realise that something was very wrong the moment he entered his parlour.

The moment before the light flickered on he had grabbed for his wand, the most horrendous curses he could think of on the tip of his tongue.

"Surprise! Happy Birthday!" was screamed at him from every corner. He had half a mind to curse the lot of them, despite the fact that they probably didn't mean any harm. Then he saw the annoyingly impish grin on his ex, who has flanked by his two best friends. Ron had a broad smile on his face and Hermione had a look that said she clearly thought that this was a bad idea and had only gone through with this due to her stupid loyalty.

"I thought I told you to go." Draco's voice was low and dangerous. As a Malfoy he was not used to people disobeying his orders and was rather unsure of how to deal with this situation. Cursing normally worked well; but this was Harry. Cursing was not how to handle Harry.

"But…" Harry looked to Ron and Hermione for support.

"Okay guys, parties over. Grab whatever food you want, leave your presents. We'll owl you sometime," Hermione instructed in a tight voice. The gathered people apparated out, grabbing what they could of food. The majority looked scandalised, except for the once-Slytherins, who smirked and oozed smugness as they left.

"The bird approach…" Harry said weakly once the last pop had sounded. Draco was too busy looking through the piles of presents and returning Ron's glower to hear him.

"I'm really sorry about this, Draco," Hermione apologised. "Harry thought it was a good idea, and you know how he is, once he gets an idea he'd rather die than let go of it." She laughed weakly.

"I think it would be a good idea if you guys left," he replied. "And you know how I am when I get good ideas." Hermione's smile faded a little as she nodded.

"Come on boys," she said, grabbing their arms. "We can just show ourselves to the floo room."

"You do that," was the icy reply.

"It's probably just all the people," Ron said as they prepared to floo back to Harry's flat. "He wasn't expecting it and you know how Malfoy is with surprises, reverts right back to his old nasty self. I suspect it wouldn't have been so bad if it was just you, me, and 'Mione. She may have been right about the party not being such a good idea." Hermione snorted.

"Yeah, probably," was Harry's choked response, but most of him didn't believe that.

Two months after the disastrous birthday party found a slightly drunken Harry back in the floo room of Malfoy Manor. Draco was there to greet him, just as he had been when Harry returned home from a long night at work. And just like those nights, his arms were wide open, waiting to embrace his black haired companion.

"Harry," he said softly as the man fell into his arms. The rest of the night Harry couldn't remember a moment after it passed, but he fell asleep contently, in the Slytherin's arms.

"I told you to go," Draco's cool voice whispered somewhere near Harry's left ear. He squinted in front of him, trying his hardest to locate the voice, but everything was shadowy and no where was there the shock of blonde hair that he had become used to seeing. "My mistake," Draco laughed, gently placing Harry's glasses on his face, making sure to caress both cheeks as he drew his hands away.

Even in his groggy state he was able to tell that his hands were chained to the wall above him and that he was sitting, not standing. He knew for a fact that this was something that would give Draco a marginal advantage; so he struggled to get to his feet.

"That won't work." Without even looking Harry was able to see perfectly the smirk that accompanied that statement. "Your legs, it seems, are out of commission, and will be for a while." Harry looked down to see the mangled mess that was his legs. Both went in directions that they shouldn't, and the last time he checked his feet didn't go those ways either. The most alarming part, however, was the fact that he could feel none of it.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry asked.

"I did tell you, didn't I? I said that you should go, last time you graced me with your presence. By the way, I never did thank you for throwing that party. The food was great, well what the guests didn't take of it anyway, and the gifts… they are absolutely amazing." Draco brought one slender finger up to stroke the rook shaped pendent on his neck. Instantly a magnificent iron dragon-themed chest set appeared, spinning enough for the gem eyes to wink and sparkle. The pieces clunked down heavily on the marble board. "Recognise this?"

Harry just barely contained the urge to reply that he, of course, recognised the damned board. It had, after all, cost him about half a years worth of his salary and Hermione had spent two days working on, perfecting, and checking the spell that connected the set to the pendent, which had cost her a pretty penny as well.

"It'll be a shame to have to kill her," Draco murmured.

"Then don't," Harry retorted.

"Why should I listen to your advice, when you didn't listen to mine?" His voice holding the same innocence that a child would have when asking his parents why the sky was blue. "Had you we might not be in this slight pickle."

"Slight pickle? SLIGHT pickle?" Harry was outraged. "I'm paralysed and chained to a wall in god only knows where!"

"Actually, a great deal of people know where this is, which is the beauty of this spot," another voice, that to Harry was as familiar as it was hard to place, joined in conversationally.

"As I was saying," Draco said, clearing his throat loudly in an attempt to draw the attention back to himself. "Had you just let me be the first time I told you to do so, you would be sitting in your flat, miserable, but with a chance of survival. But you came back, and I gave you one more chance, to be free of me, this time pretending like it made a difference that your two sidekicks were there. But when you came back a third time, this time all alone… I just couldn't ignore you and send you away again.

"You see, Harry, I do love you, which is why I tried to save you. I didn't want this to happen, and I certainly didn't want to be the one to make this happen. But I do have a master to serve now and he's been most eager to kill you for quite some time."

"I don't want you to think," the familiar voice began. "That Draco is just handing you over to me, instead of protecting you as he has done for the past couple years. In exchange for his services he gets his one true love." Voldemort had now stepped out of the shadows and looked surprisingly good for a man with 6/7ths of his soul missing and about 83 of those soul fragments destroyed.

"Hair products?" Harry guessed. Despite having lived with the man for three years he had never been able to understand, or get over, his lovers obsession with his hair.

"Power," the dark lord hissed. "I'm the one who needs the hair products."

"Yes, I noticed that you seemed to have acquired more hair and other human features since your last attempt to defeat me."

"Yes, well… I figured since Madonna changes how she looks every time she makes a new appearance then I can too." Draco shook his head.

"Forgive him, the body I gave him came with a sense of humour, albeit a bad one, but a sense of humour nonetheless." Draco shrugged carelessly. "He knows how much he loves his little joke."

"Sorry sir," Voldemort mocked. "I'll just go and check on our other business, shall I?"

"Voldemort wrapped around your finger? How did you manage that one?" Harry sneered. He didn't know whether to be impressed or scared.

"Couldn't have done it without you, pet." Draco caressed Harry's check as he spoke. "Who knew that adding part of another person's soul to yours could make you so… great?"

"You didn't."

"Of course I did. You know I'm not one to pass up opportunities like this. It was fairly simple to do actually. Once you told me where you thought you could find the remaining horcrux all I had to do was actually go out and find it. After that it just took a bit of magic and it was mine. And, this is the best part, with the soul comes power." A glowing look accompanied this statement.

Harry felt his heart sinking in his chest. This was not the man he had fallen in love with. This couldn't be the man he had fallen in love with. But there was no difference in the man. He looked the same, he talked the same, even his ambition was the same. The Draco before him was the same Draco he had always known; only now he had what he had always wanted. Now he was unstoppable.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, not even making an effort to keep the hurt from his voice.

"Because I can."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Draco circled around his ex. His eyes lit up like a child's at Christmas. "I always liked the idea of you being chained."


End file.
